The Dream
by ljp42
Summary: One good night's sleep could change Jane's life, but can Lisbon help him work it out ... I've added a chapter written some time ago but since the finale I'm not sure I should continue.Would love to, let me know what you think... Please!
1. Chapter 1

"OK! You stay up here and stare at the moon all night then…."

She didn't mean to be so harsh, but she had nothing more to say. He wouldn't or couldn't hear her. It had been a tough week. Not just for him, but for all of them. He didn't seem to realise that she and the team where beginning to resent it.

She was drained.

Not looking back and on auto pilot, Theresa Lisbon turned her back and dejectedly left the room. She walked slowly down the stairs to the now empty office, retrieved her keys and headed home.

"How much longer can he carry on like this," she worried as she stood in the elevator. Mouthing the words to herself , she was glad that no one else was around to see.

"I've done all I can do. Damn him! "

Theresa was more worried about him now than she had ever been. Each time she saw the colour drain from his cheeks when the call came. Then there was that switch that put his brain into RJ mode. It was almost as if she could see the tiny demon in his head throwing that switch, lurking with all the others, in a corner of his brain, waiting for it's moment.

RJ mode …. The pacing, the silences followed by manic outpourings or weird illogical remarks, then rushing off without a word of warning. The blind panic that hit him at the crime scene.

The sleepless nights… interminable sleepless nights.

It had been so much worse lately. Actions that had been merely reckless were now becoming downright dangerous. This time, nobody could deny, he had gone too far. What he had done was immoral. Oh, he would have an excuse, a justification…

"I had no choice!" he'd plead.

She couldn't condone what he'd done this time… and yet once again, she did. She couldn't help herself.

The elevator doors opened. She didn't exit. They closed again.

Tomorrow would be the same as it was each time. As though nothing had happened. The same forced smile, fake cheeriness, the same bad jokes and the next case would be solved with a flourish. Donuts or pizza. Business as usual!

She caught him sometimes though, on his own, unaware of anyone else. There was nothing behind those pretty eyes, sometimes blue, sometimes green, sometimes the colour of the ocean. They didn't even belie the pain he felt as he stared out into the distance or back into his mind.

He always snapped back into reality though, with an easy platitude or a diversionary quip.

"Have I shown you this trick!"

How could he think she didn't notice. But she didn't say anything.

She pressed the button to open the doors again, but didn't move. How long could this routine go on? Each encounter with Red John was getting more dangerous, his behaviour becoming more extreme since the Tim Carter killing and he had taken to covering it up again. Even from her. She was hurt. She had tried so many times to get him to really talk and the had become closer, but still she knew he didn't tell even her the complete truth. She still couldn't find the key to unlock the barrier.

What would happen next time, she thought. How many times could he bounce back, before he hit hit the final wall, before he tipped over the edge. Surely he couldn't take much more.

Theresa stepped out of the elevator.

"Neither can I!" she muttered.

But she knew tomorrow would be no different.

A full half hour later a heartfelt sigh floated a cloud of misty condensation onto the grimy window of the attic room. It gathered slowly into droplets and trickled in tiny rivers down the pane. A delicate blue and white teacup came to rest in it's saucer and a shabby brown manila folder was tossed in the general direction of the pile on the makeshift bed.

The last of the office lights had been extinguished, leaving only the glow from the street below and the dull redness of security lamps in the hall. The cleaners rolled their noisy trollies to the next floor and all was quiet.

Patrick Jane gently closed the heavy door to the dark room and descended the stairs from his retreat and ,with a shiver, made his way over to the comfort afforded by his second best friend. He slipped off the old brown shoes and allowed his weary body to sink into the soft brown leather. He lay on his back, one knee raised and his hands lazily cupped in his lap, head cushioned by the generous arm of the couch. He let his gaze drift back to it's customary resting place on the ceiling. Elvis was in the house, but he wasn't putting on a show tonight.

Patrick sighed again; another expression of relief and as he relaxed his leg slid down and the fingers of his right hand unconsciously turned the wedding band on his left.

Another battle with Red John had come to nothing, but at least everyone was safe…..for now…until the next time.

He was no nearer though.

Too tired to think about anything now, the image of Elvis dissolved into a blur, exhausted eyelids gently shut out what little light there was and the soothing noise of the traffic in the city streets filled his head. He drifted into what was to be the best sleep he had had in days.

She hadn't come to him before, even though when thoughts ran rings around his mind Patrick often addressed them to her, imagining her replies. It helped him straighten things out. Not the clues, but the subtleties that she had always said " only a woman understands". He never talked about his many problems though, it didn't seem right to spoil the memories he had. It was just good to feel her with him, he knew what she would say and he knew she would never go away. Somehow by talking to her he felt more secure.

Tonight she was there.

Her voice slipped into his head between the gaps in the comforting traffic noise. It was still the same, after all these years, like the crystals on an expensive chandelier, not fragile, but clear, sparkling and full of light.

"You're not looking after yourself Patrick Jane."

He didn't stir.

"I've been watching you, and your friend Theresa," there was nothing accusing in her tone but he moved a little and quietly groaned.

"Angie… I…", but nothing more.

"Don't worry. I approve. She's good for you. She can help you and you know you can help her too, she's not as strong as she likes to think… but then you know that too. You can help each other.

I've seen the way you are together, you're a great team and seeing you together sometimes, well…"

Patrick wriggled uncomfortably and tugged at his ring.

"…..you make me laugh! I can't be jealous, when I see the way she makes you smile, the way you tease and make her angry, then give her little gifts. And I've seen the way you dance to cheer her up. You don't fool me Patrick. She looks good in pink doesn't she, your angry princess? I saw the twinkle in your eyes that day… it's been missing for too long."

"Hhhmmm …" a soft smile of remembered times passed across the sleeping man's face.

"Patrick you must listen to me now. It's her turn. She knows the worst of you and yet she loves you, she cannot admit it, just as you can't, but I'm not the only one who knows and loves you.

I knew it when she prayed for you that day. You couldn't see it, but I did.

We're very alike, she and I, she's as stubborn as I am, we're good for you!

It's time to let me go, you know we're not there with you any more and there's nothing you can do to bring us back. Nothing can change that. Nothing. So let us go now Patrick, we're fine, Charlotte and I. It's her turn now.

You need to be with Theresa and let her help you forget that man. There's no need to feel guilty, no need to seek revenge. Let the world take it's revenge on him. It will, in time, you know. The evil is in him , not you. You can't allow his evil to envelop you. He'll lose interest if he sees he can't hurt you, if he can't tempt you into his darkness.

No more killings, no more pain, no more hurting people. Let your light shine Patrick, it's so much stronger than his dark.

I love you so much. We love you. We always will and we'll always be there, but it's time to let go, time for you to try to live again before it's too late."

Patrick's lips sleepily mouthed the words they'd said a thousand times before.

"Love you….."

"I know… and thanks for the flower darling."

A watery shaft of winter morning sunshine struggled over the windowsill of the empty office and searched for something to light. It settled on the dishevelled curls of the CBI consultant and lit them with a halo of the purest gold. He slumbered on.

The elevator pinged and, always the first to arrive, out stepped Special Agent Theresa Lisbon. She wasn't really looking forward to the day, but what she saw from the corner of her eye as she made her way to the kitchen to make that first restorative coffee of the day made her stop in her tracks.

She couldn't help that warm glow that spread from her toes to the tip of her head when she saw him lying there. An angel, there was no other word for it. An angel. No wings, but still an angel!

Bathed in soft sunlight, his face more relaxed than she had ever seen, a slight, but yes, a REAL smile shaped his lips and his golden hair shone bright in the warmth of a new day. It was as if all his troubles had been washed away that night. This was not the face of a mind that harboured so many dark thoughts.

"Patrick Jane! What do you think you're smiling at?"

She hardly dared to hope, but still she thought.

"Today it might be different."


	2. Chapter 2

The following weeks saw a new Patrick Jane. The door to the attic remained resolutely shut, files gathered dust and Jane kept regular hours and worked willingly. In fact, to the outsider, all seemed greatly improved. But the CBI was not staffed by outsiders. Lisbon's team was exactly that. A team. A team whose members instinctively knew that all was not right with their friend.

Jane would sit alone on his couch for hours if he was not needed. This, in itself, was not unusual, but where he would normally have one ear and one eye on the goings on around him, while reading or thinking, ready to jump in with a counter suggestion or opinion, whether invited or not, these days Jane wore the expression of a confused and puzzled man. He didn't seem to be troubled or more worried than usual, in fact quite often van Pelt observed a gentle smile played on his lips. A smile which she was pleased to see and which, when brought to his attention, caused Rigsby to remark to Cho.

"What's Jane dreaming about?"

Eliciting the immediate and typical reply.

"A woman".

Jane's absent minded smiles were usually of the kind prompted by some scheme or ruse he had planned. Not by romance. Certainly not one involving himself. It was clear to Cho, vanPelt and therefore Rigsby too that all was not well in the palace of imagination, logic and subterfuge.

They were surprisingly perceptive in their diagnosis. Jane was confused. He couldn't remember much of that night. The night that had changed his life. There had been many dramatic, pivotal events over the past few years, but this was just one night among many when he had had a dream which he could hardly recall at all. And it wasn't that he never had dreams. He dreamt all the time. It was part of the reason he couldn't sleep properly, he was scared to sleep because of the dreams. This dream was different and that was what occupied his mind, but no matter how much he thought he just couldn't pin down that dream.

It was as though he had walked into a spider's web. He could feel it all around him, like a thick soft cloud. Not a storm cloud, or a rain cloud, but light, warm and oddly comforting. When he tried to take hold of the ethereal threads of the dream web as he touched them they simply disappeared.

He knew it had been a good dream. He had an odd sensation of relief and contentment, somehow strangely euphoric, as if a huge weight had been lifted, but all this was still tinged with an overwhelming feeling of guilt.

"Why", he thought aloud sometimes. It wasn't the same guilt he had suffered all those years, the agonizing, strangling guilt over Red John. It wasn't the prickly guilt of some scam he'd pulled nor the regret that he felt at the way he sometimes treated dear Lisbon and her team. This was different. It felt like guilt for something he hadn't even contemplated doing yet but would do in the future and he wasn't even sure it was something he should be guilty about.

Jane's quietness and willingness to co-operate had not gone unnoticed by Lisbon. Not that she minded have a consultant who uncharacteristically towed the line for a change, but this wasn't typical and it had her worried. Was this the calm before the storm?

She had been surprised when he had so rationally alerted Susan Darcy immediately when Rosalind Harker called him to say that Roy Tagliaferro was with her. There had been so many times when he had rushed off to meet his nemesis alone, not caring for the consequences. Not this time though.

And it was only a matter of time before Darcy would prove that he had goaded James Panzer into provoking Red John on live TV and pinning Panzer's death on the poor dead father of his first victim.

It was unbelievable that Jane seemed untroubled by all this. Almost, she felt, as if he no longer cared that he could not have Red John to himself. Darcy had the files now. He seemed to have accepted that.

Had the great revenge seeker given up?

Lisbon knew better than to quiz Jane too much about the things that lay close to his heart, especially Red John. She had known him long enough to realize that she was still some way from breaking through the shell he had encased himself in. A bit like an egg she thought; seems fragile, easy to crack, but then you get to that pesky inside skin and when you get through that you've broken the yolk. She wouldn't want to do that. Break Jane's yolk!

On the face of it they got on very well. She liked him. Very much. In spite of his annoying idiosyncrasies and innate ability to rile her. That she, for her part, thought they got on well made it all the more frustrating that he always managed to steer their conversation his way. That is, onto what he was comfortable with..

They would talk about trivia, they would talk about life and death, but the discussion rarely turned to talking about themselves or each other. They could sit in comfortable silence, and often did as they drove to and from crime scenes. They knew each other well and yet not at all. Both knew every detail of their respective backgrounds, but nothing of their feelings.

Since the last encounter with Red John she had noticed that Jane sought her out more often. He would call her from the rooftop café,

"Come here Lisbon. I have to see you."

"I'm busy!"

"I know. I thought you needed a break and I need to see you," he would say, smiling gently (she could hear his smile and the kind of smile it was).

She would find him sitting, waiting patiently, with an ice cream to share or a coffee for her and a pot of tea for himself. He knew exactly how she liked her coffee.

Sometimes it annoyed her, but she couldn't be cross with him. They would talk. Small talk mostly. Often, recently, she felt he had more to say, but he would always pull back to small talk with the occasional earth stopping comment on the human condition thrown in randomly. She found this very endearing if a little disconcerting.

If they were both in the office, he would be there to greet her in the morning and would escort her to the elevator in the evening. He was definitely trying to get closer to her but didn't seem able to. And there was still this new vagueness about him which the team had commented on.

"Butterflies", Jane murmured one day as Lisbon walked past.

"Losing your mind again Jane?" she smiled and sat down beside him.

Perhaps it would be a good opportunity to engage him in a meaningful conversation. While he was off guard.

"OH…I….I…..nothing…," Jane blustered like a small boy who'd been caught thinking things he shouldn't.

"Jane, you know it's not nothing! I've known you long enough to know when something's not right".

Lisbon managed to smile sweetly while still sounding stern. She didn't want to scare him off now that she'd caught him in a vulnerable moment, but she needed him to know that she wasn't going to be fobbed off.

She placed her hand gently on his knee and waited hopefully.

He turned his face to answer her, but his courage deserted him, his eyes falling to the comfort of his lap.

"No Jane, come on ….. I can help you,"

Jane seemed to relax, something in those words had struck a chord. He thought for a bit then, as if telling a secret he said quietly and very hesitatingly.

"Lisbon….. something's amiss with the mighty fortress."

"What?" Lisbon looked at him as if she thought he _had_ lost his mind.

"My memory. My head. My mind," he blurted out, embarrassed, looking down at his hands, nervously spinning his ring.

"It's like somebody smuggled a whole box of butterflies in there and set them free," he explained, a little calmer now.

"I have images, thoughts fluttering around but I can't catch them. Sometimes I can get them to settle on my hand, just long enough to get a glimpse, but then… … they're so beautiful Lisbon."

He paused and looked straight into her eyes, pleading for help now.

"It was a dream Lisbon, a wonderful dream, but I can't remember."

Lisbon didn't speak for a moment and still Jane looked for her response. She had to find something to say, but he was usually the one with all the answers. At last she took the plunge. Maybe this would help…..

"I could hypnotize you," she said brightly, hoping he would see the funny side.

To her complete surprise and very, very slowly, his eyes crinkled and a wide smile spread to every inch of his face.

"I dare you !"

Soon they were both laughing hard.

"Don't move Jane. I'm going to make tea." Lisbon instructed him when they had both sufficiently recovered.

This was her chance to get him really talking, she thought, hoping he wouldn't disappear as he was inclined to do.

"Let's go to my office," she said when she returned with a big pot of his favourite tea and some chocolate biscuits. She wasn't very fond of the strange tea but that wasn't the point. She wondered if he would notice he was actually drinking it.

"I'll be Mum," she said casually, trying to keep things light.

Watching Jane carefully as he sipped the tea in silence, Lisbon was aware that he was waiting for her to open proceedings, so she picked her moment with some caution.

"You know we've all noticed a change in you," she ventured, "we're not used to all this good behaviour." She paused, hoping for a reaction. Jane said nothing.

"Rigsby says it's weeks since you insulted anyone and he's not found anything unusual in his pockets. It's making him nervous." She hoped he wouldn't feel threatened if she tried to inject some humour and she too felt more at ease, but she feared that he would see straight through her.

"And Cho thinks you've got a woman!"

Jane winced. Then he laughed.

"I thought you liked it when I behave?"

"We like it when you're YOU Jane. We know where we stand."

"You want me BAD?"

"Well… we want you back!"

She paused for a while and sipped her tea while Jane looked at her, a little bemused, and changing the subject she said as casually as she could.

"Is there anything you remember about the dream? Do you know what it was about?"

Jane looked down into his tea as he held the cup ready to take a sip. Lisbon gave him time. Again she rested her hand reassuringly on his leg. She could feel him begin to tense and then to tremble slightly.

After an interminable silence and as Lisbon was about to break it to ask if he was alright, Jane whispered, in a shaking, hesitant voice,

"It was Angela."

Lisbon had never heard him mention his wife by name before. He never talked about her. She didn't say anything at first, realising how difficult it had been for him to utter those words. She knew she had to tread carefully so she just moved her hand to touch his arm again in comfort and said quietly,

"Jane…."

She waited and watched him, trying not to intrude, for what must have been only a minute or two but felt like eternity before Jane lifted his glistening eyes to meet hers and said quite calmly,

"Thank you Lisbon."

Then, almost inaudibly and with a deep sigh,

"I feel better now."

They drank the rest of their now cold tea in silence before Lisbon said,

"You know, if you want to talk , you only have to ask?"

"I know," he replied with a warm smile.

Lisbon smiled quietly to herself,

"Little steps," she thought happily, "little steps."


	3. Chapter 3

**I wrote this chapter some time ago and have only just got round to posting it. A lot has happened on TM since the and it kind of changes the way I feel this could go. Please tell me if you think I should leave it here or try to move on to encompass what has happened since then. I think I can do it. Let me know what you think.**

Lisbon wasn't exactly in the mood for paperwork following her afternoon with Jane. California had been a crime free zone for the CBI over the past few days and it couldn't last, so the chance to leave on time was not to be sneezed at. Picking up some takeway en route she drove home and prepared for a night in front of the TV. She felt emotionally drained and she was sure that if she felt this way then Jane must be even more exhausted, so it was a surprise when, just as she was about to slip into bed for an early night, the phone rang and it was him.

"Lisbon, I'll pick you up at 9.00. Don't be late!" he instructed brightly but firmly.

"You mean tomorrow? You know it's Sunday?"

"Yes! I know it's Sunday. No work clothes. OK?"

Lisbon knew she couldn't argue, you just didn't when Jane used _that_ tone. You just complied.

As she replaced the receiver she wished she had thought to as more about his plans. Was the business, a social event (NO), did he want to talk she wondered, but it was no good asking and besides he had gone, as always, before she'd had time to gather her thoughts. Jane was like a steamroller, sometimes you had to accept that you ran along with him or got rolled over. He'd said no work clothes , but what did that mean? She didn't do girlie, smart was her work gear … so it was casual or nothing and _nothing_ wasn't on the cards, especially for Jane!

At precisely 9.00 the baby blue Citroen pulled up outside her apartment building and the horn sounded impatiently.

"Oh God Jane, think! It's Sunday!" she cursed under her breath as she took one more sip of her coffee, quickly glanced in the mirror on her way out and rushed downstairs. She didn't want any snarky remarks about tardiness especially from one so adept at making lateness seem a virtue.

Jane flung open the passenger door with a flash of that dazzling smile.

"You look charming, Lisbon my dear", he cried cheerily.

She hadn't expected that. She was only wearing a t-shirt and Jeans and hadn't even done any more than give her hair a quick brush through, but he wasn't being ironic. He meant it!

"Thank you. What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter. Does something have to be the matter? We're having a day out. Jump in".

He patted the seat next to him and turned that smile of his on her again.

Lisbon was aching to ask where? What? Why? But she knew better, Jane's demeanour told her "be patient!" so she just looked at him. He was wearing a slight smirk that said "wait, I'm having fun!" and one of his wardrobe of three piece suits with her favourite blue linen shirt, the one she liked him best in and that he seemed to favour. No work clothes, my ass! But she didn't protest.

They drove out of town and towards the coast. It was a sunny day, warm but not hot. They drove in comfortable silence for the most part, until Jane pulled into a small car park on a cliff top above a long sandy beach. She didn't even think about how long they had been travelling for, it had probably been a couple of hours, but it didn't matter. When they spoke they slipped into the usual easy banter that had developed over the years, banter about anything and nothing. Nothing personal.

Lisbon daydreamed, wondering if Jane secretly wanted her to quiz him about their destination, but guessing that he was enjoying the little game he probably had planned. Jane said nothing and his enigmatic half smile gave nothing away, but then did it ever when he didn't want it to!

"We're here!" Jane proclaimed.

Unfolding himself from the car, he slipped off his jacket and flung it nonchalantly onto the rear seat. Turning towards the warm sun, he spread his arms wide, tipped his head back so that the healing rays shone onto his face. He closed his eyes and took a long deep breath. Lisbon had seen him do this many times before. It was as though he took his strength from the sun and she was reminded of the day when she had watched him bathed in golden morning light as he slept on his couch.

The morning after the dream.

"Come here Lisbon. Isn't it beautiful?" he murmured, opening his eyes slowly, as if seeing for the first time.

It was. They were quite alone on a grassy hillside with a biggish pine trees, strategically placed by mother nature to provide shelter from the midday sun. A narrow path wound its way steeply down to an area of softly rounded boulders and onto the long but surprisingly private and very white beach. The path was edged with rough grass and patches of wild flowers.

"Well, what do you think?" he cried enthusiastically when they stepped onto the invitingly soft sand.

Lisbon loved to see Jane excited about something. It was good to see someone so complicated so thrilled by simple things. "And nice to see him happy", she thought. Other than that she wasn't quite sure what she thought. She felt a little bowled over by Jane's rather unexpected energy given the way he had been the previous day and, if it came to that for weeks on end.

"It's lovely." Was what she said.

What she meant was "Why have you brought me here?"

Jane did nothing without a reason.

Suddenly he turned and marched back to the car. Lisbon dutifully hurried to catch up and followed him. Opening the boot, he took out the perfect Patrick Jane picnic kit. Nothing complicated. The rug from his couch, a couple of cushions - borrowed, she thought, Jane didn't own cushions. Oh, yes! of course – they were the ones from _her_ couch. The ones _he_ had bought for her.

Then the food. Cheese and ham sandwiches on cheap white bread, blueberry muffins, some fresh fruit, bottles of water, a good bottle of red, two glasses and a corkscrew.

"You don't have to get back do you Lisbon? I've taken you by surprise haven't I? I'm sorry. I didn't think," he started as they clambered down the narrow path. "I just had an idea. I wanted to show you this place. I know you'll love it. I do. It's great…"

"Calm down Jane. It's alright. I haven't got anything better to do."

She could have eaten her words.

"Oh, so if you'd had something better to do you wouldn't have come!" he joked.

This was more like the real Jane!

By the time they had argued over the best position for the rug ( she wanted shade , Jane insisted on full sun - he won! ), they were both hungry so Jane poured them each a glass of wine and they ate.

"I'm not sure Merlot compliments blueberry muffins Lisbon. Perhaps a cheeky little Cabernet Sauvignon would have been a better choice."

"Oh, I think a Shiraz next time."

"Next time eh!" Jane giggled, "She thinks there's going to be a next time. We'd better move onto the water before you get any ideas!"

They ate and laughed and joked about anything and nothing again, but all the time Lisbon had a feeling that she hadn't been brought all this way just for a picnic and some sun. She was sure he was plucking up the courage to talk about something more serious.

After they had tidied up the remnants of their meal into its brown paper carrier bag he suggested they take a stroll along the water's edge. He was relaxed but quiet now and she sensed the change in his mood as they walked slowly and in silence for a bit, stopping here and there to pick up stones and skimming them on the ocean. Watching the pebbles as they skipped Lisbon also observed the preoccupied face of her friend and waited patiently for her friend to set free what ever it was he was holding back. She was in no hurry. It was not her place to open the conversation. Usually when she did he avoided the subject if he felt he was cornered. It was always best to leave him til he was ready. Except in extreme circumstances. These were not extreme circumstances!

Suddenly he stopped and stood, gazing out at the wide blue expanse, his eyes fixed on the horizon as if to avoid meeting hers.

"Lisbon," he said at last, in a voice barely audible above the quiet sound of the in coming tide.

"Yes Jane". She waited.

"I … I never really thanked you, did I?"

"For what, Jane?"

"For everything. For saving my life. For taking me to the house. For bringing me back to reality…everything, Lisbon… everything."

He paused, then turned towards her. His face was completely open, his eyes steady and full of honesty, an honesty she'd seen before, many times, but this time there was no longer that dark cloud of hate that had been there when he'd been honest with her before. The only times she felt he'd been truly honest. The times when he had talked of what he would do to Red John.

"I do know what I've put you through. I know I've lied to you. I know I've used you. I got you shot, suspended – more than once. I cheated. I ignored you. And still you put up with me. I hate myself for it Lisbon….."

His eyes held her in his grip, pleading with her to listen, to understand that this was the real man speaking.

"I know it's not easy for you and you risk your life and your job for me and I know you can't trust me, I wish you could, I understand why you can't but I don't expect you to, I want to try to make you trust me….. but…. and I'm sorry….I'm so sorry…. so, so sorry Lisbon…."

He just stood and looked into her eyes and let it all spill out. He remained calm and still, but she could see the tears welling uncontrollably in his eyes, filled with the pain of the past few years.

This was all too much. If it had been any other day she might have thought he had an ulterior motive. No! That was silly. She had never seen him like this before and after yesterday afternoon's conversation she couldn't deny the honesty in those eyes. Lisbon was embarrassed. She wasn't often lost for words, but she didn't do all this emotional stuff. She was little miss fierce, the tomboy boss. She was the law enforcement officer who entered the crime scene ahead of him. It was her job to be responsible for him. She was strong. It was what she did. She couldn't allow him to get to her like this. But he did and she didn't know how to cope.

"For God's sake Jane, please….." She almost shouted at him. Then thinking better of it, quietly went on.

"You don't have to do this. It's my job, to take care of you. I'd do it all again. I mean, maybe not the getting shot bit, and I'm not keen on being lied to and those suspensions don't look good on my resume, but we're a team."

Jane's eyes dropped to the white sand, turned gold by the afternoon sun. it was his turn to be embarrassed now, by his own outpourings. Had he said too much? It wasn't like him to show what was in his heart! His hands slid into his pockets for comfort and he stood staring uncomfortably at a single pebble until Lisbon's voice broke the silence.

"Let's go and sit down for a bit," she suggested, gently ushering Jane back to sit on the familiar rug.

"I understand the way you are," she explained when they were settled, " and why you do some of the things you do. You forget I've known you for a long time now and through some very rough times. That doesn't mean I approve, just that I understand. I've seen you do some terrible things, but you know I've seen you do some beautiful things too. You're a good man Patrick, a better man than you let yourself be and I don't want you to lose that. I don't want you to forget that."

Jane say impassively, head bowed, listening as Lisbon turned the tables and allowed her feelings to emerge.

"Thought you were dead you know, that day. I thought I had lost you and I prayed for you, so hard. I couldn't bare to think that I might lose you. That feeling surprised me , that I would miss you so much. But I shouldn't have been surprised. We've been friends for so long."

"Hey, don't get carried away Princes!" he suddenly looked up, smiling.

He just had to break all this truth telling, before it smothered him. He couldn't accept that Lisbon felt so strongly about him. He couldn't accept that anyone could care. He raised his drawbridge again, lay back on the cushion from her couch and closed his eyes.

"Oh, I won't. don't you worry."

"That's alright then", he murmured.

Lisbon sat watching the waves roll in as Jane slowly fell into a restless slumber. She listened to the steady breathing that came as he relaxed and settled and she found herself wondering at the spell that this man could cast over those around him, even his sleeping breaths were hypnotic. She too lay back and let him work that magic.

The sun was beginning to dip and kiss the sky with it's first warm hint of a crimson sunset to come, when Lisbon woke to see her consultant sitting cross legged beside her, not facing the ocean, but captivated by something half way up the cliff face.

"What is it?"

"Look!" he pointed.

"Oh yes! It's a monarch isn't it? Like the ones on that island."

"Yep. Pretty , eh Lisbon?"

They watched for a while, until the butterfly fluttered off and Lisbon, judging that Jane seemed quite happy, casually asked.

"You haven't managed to catch any of your butterflies have you?"

He didn't answer at first, and she wasn't really expecting anything, but he bowed his head a little and staring intently at his hands as they lay, left over right, and quite relaxed in his lap, he told her very tentatively.

"Yes, Lisbon. I think I have".

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Well, not really….but….. I …I think she likes you…. your pink dress…and there was something else…."

He didn't say anything more but his face betrayed that this something was more serious than a pink dress so she didn't press him, but it was progress. She didn't want to spoil what had been, in essence a lovely, if slightly strange day. And yes she had made progress!

They sat and watched the sky becoming slowly more rosy. They indulged in more small talk after Jane had signalled that he was ready, until , changing the subject unexpectedly to one they had avoided all day he turned to her and said.

"How's Tommy and that little minx of his? She's a great girl that one, sure to break some hearts."

Surprised, she just said," Oh, I think they're fine, Tommy doesn't keep in touch much, only when he needs something. You know what brothers are like."

"Well no actually I don't, I'm an only child."

"Well you're the lucky one."

"I wish I'd had brothers and sisters, things might have been different."

"My brothers were a pain, always in trouble. I got so pissed off having to be their little mother. I always wished I could have had a sister to share the burden."

As they talked about Lisbon's family some more Jane's expression gradually became distant again and filled with a nostalgic sadness as he said very quietly and deliberately,

"We always wanted a little brother for Charlotte, you know. But he didn't come. It would have completed our family."

"But you were happy. The three of you?"

"Oh yes, very happy. Very happy. You would have adored her, Lisbon."

The saddest, smallest smile touched his lips as he whispered,

"My precious little girl."

Lisbon couldn't find the right words so she smiled gently and placed her hand softly on his arm, trying to reassure him.

"I know I would."

They sat for a bit, Jane looking as if he was about to say more, so she didn't speak. He would say more if he was ready and when he was ready.

"Angela was teaching her to play piano, they would sit and play together. I would sit and watch them. They made a song ….."

Slowly he began to rock gently back and forth and in a quivering voice he sang a simple tune. Jane was a dancer. He wasn't a singer. She couldn't make out any words, but it didn't matter. Lisbon could only hear the sweet sound of a loving father singing for his daughter. There was no sound of the sea, no bird song. Nothing. Just the sound of his voice and her own heartbeat. All she could feel was the slight shakiness in his arm as she rested her hand on it and the warmth of the tears on her cheeks.

They sat there, the two of them, on the empty beach.

Just the two of them, his voice and their tears.


End file.
